Harry Potter and the Voice of the Flame
by WhirlyBlue
Summary: CHAPTER 4 NOW UP! Everything is as expected isn't it? Isn't it? Where will the Portkey lead Harry?
1. The dog star

Hi, I'm quite new to fanfiction.net (I've been on for about a month or so), and this is my first fanfic story. I would really like some CONSTRUCTIVE (nice is fine, and you could say the negative stuff if you tell me how to improve) comments about the story. I didn't quite realize that it would look as short on the actual thing as it's about two whole sheets of A4 on Word.  
  
The Dog Star  
  
Three swings swayed gently to and fro as the night breeze blew past, lightly, ordinary. The metal slide gleamed in the bright full moonlight, reflecting moving trees as it rustled in the wind.  
  
It was a clear night, calm and peaceful, and no clouds crowded the speckled sky. The village of Little Whinging was still; its villagers probably fast asleep in their beds, with nothing to worry about but overdue payments, dried flowerbeds and whether or not their football team won the match. Simple, uncomplicated Muggle worries.  
  
This was all true, except for one inhabitant, lying on his back in the village park, his ebony black hair crumpled as his head rested on the grass. His bottle green eyes, framed in their spectacles, were deep, troubled eyes that had seen more than his almost sixteen years. His mouth was thin, and he had barely smiled for days, and had seldom talked. But most peculiar of all was the scar on his forehead, telling of his past. The Boy Who Lived.  
  
Harry Potter's eyes reflected the night sky, but he was barely seeing it, and was instead seeing his own thoughts rather than the many jumbled yet organized stars. However, he did notice a large star, larger and brighter than the rest and he stared straight at it. Sirius, the Dog Star.  
  
Earlier that evening, Harry had crept out of 4 Privet Drive, the place he was to spend part of, if not all of his summer. Although he now knew the reason why he had to be there, it still did not make facing Uncle Vernon's purple face, Aunt Petunia's horsy teeth and the Southern England Heavy- weight Boxing Champion (Dudley Dursley)'s complaints about a broken arm and leg any easier. But after the incident involving Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye and a trolley at platform 9 3/4, the Dursley family had taken to ignoring Harry, only feeding him overcooked peas for supper and providing him the basic essentials.  
  
He came out each night to be free from the morbid Muggle world, and to reflect upon things he could not during the never ending hustle and bustle of the daytime. Harry always had his invisibility cloak hidden underneath Dudley's oversized T-shirt which he wore, so that he could prevent himself from being spotted by unsuspecting Muggle policemen, patrolling the area, hoping to catch some poor youngster out one minute after the curfew. Strictly speaking, Harry still had three days to go until his sixteenth birthday, but no one dared approach him anyway, as the rumours of him being mentally disturbed and attended St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys had spread far and wide throughout the years.  
  
A random passer-by would wonder why this boy is out in the park so late at night. Does no one care about him? The truth was, Harry Potter was a wizard, and the only person known to have survived from Voldemort's killing curse. On the fateful night he lost his parents, Lily and James Potter, he had gained his scar. Since then, Harry had been placed under the care of the wonderful Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, until he was brought to Hogwarts when he was eleven. In his third year, he discovered that he had a godfather, Sirius Black, his father's best friend and innocent convicted murderer and thought he had at last found someone he could rely on. But all this came down to a black veil which was hidden in the depths of the Department of Mysteries, swaying eerily to the voices behind it.  
  
Harry stared straight at the bright star; so much that it became a blur of multicoloured light, as he thought of Sirius: the handsome best man waving at him out of a photograph of his parents' wedding, the large ragged black dog watching him from Magnolia Crescent, the escaped convict of Azkaban prison and a grinning head amidst emerald flames. He then remembered number 12 Grimmauld Place, London, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and the house of Sirius, the last of the Blacks.  
  
A sudden movement nearby startled him. It came from a nearby bush, and rapid footsteps followed it closely behind. Harry quickly reached for his Invisibility cloak, but before he even had the time to put it over himself, there was a large CRACK, and a muttered curse.  
  
He heard a growling voice of "Lumos" and tried hurriedly to hide himself. But underneath his cloak, he realized there was actually no point in doing so, as a frustrated Mad-Eye Moody approached him, his revolving magical eye already seeing through his Invisibility Cloak.  
  
"Come out boy," he heard Mad-Eye say, his wand pointed directly into Harry's face, blinding him, "Come out now, there's no point hiding, I can see you anyway."  
  
Harry pulled the cloak off and shielded the light from his eyes. He walked apprehensively towards Mad-Eye and frowned at him.  
  
"I'm still being followed," he said angrily, "Wasn't that last year's stuff? Are mad ministry officials going to send Dementors after me again? Can't you just leave me alone for a bit?"  
  
Mad-Eye lowered his head slightly and looked into Harry's eyes, "No, not any more, because Lord Voldemort will." 


	2. Between Muggle and Magic

_Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of the characters, places or anything else that is mentioned in the last five Harry Potter books. If by any chance I have used an idea from elsewhere that I do not know of, I did not mean to._

_Thank you to everyone who has sent me a review. The reason that I did not reply was purely because I had a problem concerning my computer and not because I did not appreciate it. Please continue to give me_ _CONSTRUCTIVE  comments._

_I hope you enjoy Chapter 2._

**2. Between Muggle and Magic**

At these words, Harry's thoughts now turned to the prophecy. Not that he had forgotten about it at all, of course, but now it drifted upwards to the surface of his mind.  
  
"Neither can live whilst the other survives." In other words, he had to be either murderer or victim. The prospect was so grim, he could not even bear to tell his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He had asked himself why it was so, and it was because he was torn between the idea of them offering their support (he'd need it), and the idea of seeing their horrified shocked faces, and even discussing this.  
  
"Come along," came Moody's voice from somewhere in front of him, puncturing his thoughts, "I've got to take you back to your Aunt's, and after that I have to report to Dumbledore and get Tonks for dropping my magical eye into the Colour Change Solution. Damn careless, she is, and even though she did it a week ago, somehow the trees still haven't turned back from turquoise..."  
  
Harry looked up, and followed Moody, who was already striding across the grass, still muttering about Tonks. In his conscious mind he couldn't care less about the turquoise trees Moody was seeing, but subconsciously he was taking in all the information he could have from the magical world, despite how useless it was. That was how much he missed magic.  
  
He treaded slowly behind, his eyes following the beam of light emitting from Mad-Eye's wand. He could hear the breeze skimming over the grass and the occasional too-whoot from the owls swooping from tree to tree as he now contemplated the prophecy which he had tried to put at the back of his mind.  
  
"So, Potter," growled Moody, breaking the silence, "How have you been getting on?"  
  
Harry did not want to answer, particularly this question. He knew how he was getting on, and by "getting on", he knew that Moody was referring to how he was getting over Sirius's death. After a long awkward silence, he decided it would be impolite not to answer, and so forced himself to do so.  
  
"I'm...er...fine really, there's no need to worry about me," Harry replied, in his best attempt at a casual voice.  
  
Mad-Eye seemed to have acknowledged Harry's forced tone, because he did not meantion it again. There was another moment of silence, in which Harry had a mental battle between whether it was better to carry on in the silence which he was more comfortable in, or to make contact with the magical world in this rare opportunity. Finally, his desire to find out more information overpowered his wanting of the silence.

"I heard what sounded like you chasing something in the park," Harry commented, "What exactly was it?"  
  
Moody stopped walking along and the clunk clunk clunk of his wooden leg stopped. He turned to look at Harry, who was wondering if it had anything to do with what the Order was doing. Reluctantly, Moody opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"Potter, you wouldn't mind if I didn't tell you today? It isn't something that we want spreading all over the place in a matter of days," he said slowly, "It isn't that we don't trust you, of course," he added as Harry opened his mouth indignantly, "Dark wizards are all around us, and you never know when you will be overheard. As I always say, constant vigilance."  
  
Harry felt like he was being treated as though he was five, but nevertheless, he did accept the fact that they were standing in the middle of Magnolia Cresent, an extremely shady shortcut back to the Dursley's. It was, after all, where the Dementors had come to attack him the previous summer.  
  
"I want to know why you still won't let me stay at 12 Grimmauld Place," he said grouchily, his hands in his pockets, "It's not as if I haven't stayed long enough at the Dursley's this year. Two weeks should be enough for the protection thing. Tell Dumbledore that."  
  
"It's not that simple, Potter-" Mad-Eye began, his magical eye suddenly spinning around so that it looked like an electric blue blur and Harry had to concentrate on looking at his other eye instead. His words were cut off by a most horrific scream, echoing in the neighbourhood. It was long and painful, as though the person was in agony, and brutally reminded Harry of someone being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse. Suddenly lights came on in the street they were heading for, and Harry realized with a sickening dread that it was Privet Drive.  
  
Simultaneously, as though they had both been waiting for this to happen, Harry and Mad-Eye started running down the road. Harry grabbed his wand from his back pocket, and raised it high in front of him; the International Statute of Secrecy wasn't important right now. Mad-Eye moved at an astonishingly high speed despite his wooden leg, and Harry trampled on Next Door's orderly flowerbeds in his hurry to get back to the Dursley's.  
  
Apart from the screaming, Harry could tell that something else was wrong with the night as he raised his eyes to the sky. He felt like he was suspended in mid-air, whilst the floor below his feet was falling away. A familiar green constellation had joined the stars looking down at him.


	3. Revenge

_I know I haven't written since before the summer, and I rushed the ending slightly on this one, but do enjoy it, and I welcome any CONSTRUCTIVE comments you may have._

Revenge

Harry sprinted ahead into the garden, aware that he was being watched by all the neighbours staring out of their windows in horror. Crushing Aunt Petunia's favourite flowerbed, he leaped over the doorstep, almost crashing into the heavy front door. The door was unlocked, which was unusual for the Dursleys, and only convinced Harry that there had been an intruder.

The screaming had now stopped, and the pitch black house was silent, like it was holding its breath. Harry looked around him. Mad-Eye was standing on the doorstep, his wand raised, subjecting the Muggles to mind wipes, waving his wand at their faces looking out of their windows. The ticking of the kitchen clock was loud and clear, though Harry had never really noticed it before now. There was no sound of the Dursleys anywhere.

Hurrying over to the staircase, Harry called up, "Aunt Petunia! Uncle Vernon! Dudley! Can you hear me?"

There was no answer, and Harry's anxiety increased. He waved to get Moody's attention, and pointed up the staircase, indicating that he was going to go up to see what had happened. Moody nodded back in acknowledgement. He cautiously stepped onto the first stair, and treading carefully over three at a time, he reached the landing. The lack of noise was almost unbearably tense, and Harry could hear the creaking of the floorboards as he crept over to the door of the master bedroom. He pushed it open slightly.

He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary at first, apart from the fact that the Dursleys' were not in their bed. He could hear something, though it was slightly muffled and he raised his lit wand over to that direction. As he did so, he saw the burnt marks of where spells had hit the carpet instead of the person. And then he caught sight of a trembling foot sticking out from underneath the table.

Harry hurried over. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were huddled underneath. Obviously they had survived the attack, or whatever it was, since it appeared to Harry that they were both safe and well, even though they were shaking with terror. Indeed, Uncle Vernon was sweating so much Harry wondered briefly if even the incident at the gym seven years ago would have compared.

"Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon, are you ok?" asked Harry urgently, stepping over a pair of abandoned socks on the floor. Aunt Petunia looked as though she had been squashed underneath Uncle Vernon's weight when she had hidden behind him. And jammed inside the space between the table and the cupboard, it wasn't a pretty sight.

"There...was a woman...in the house," mumbled Uncle Vernon, almost squeaking like the time Hagrid was in the Hut by the Sea, "She was one of...you lot, had a...lot of black...filthy hair..., evil...put the...wooden stick...on us...said something..."

Without further description, Harry had already realized what had happened. Bellatrix Lestrange had come to seek revenge, perhaps even to try and kill him, and bring his body to Voldemort. Harry had thwarted Voldemort's plans to kill him yet again a month ago, and Bellatrix had been severely punished by the Dark Lord.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," whispered Harry, "What did she do to you? Was she looking for me? Where is she now?"

Aunt Petunia whimpered, slowly shifting herself from behind Uncle Vernon. Her pale eyes showed nothing but pure terror, as though she was remembering one of the most painful experiences of her life.

"Sh-she muttered something; put a c-curse on us. It was painful, v-very painful; like a thousand w-white hot needles were stabbed into you in one go."

Harry's mind immediately jumped to the Cruciatus curse. He had been hit by it once before, and had no desire of repeating the experience. The pain was so intense you felt like there was nothing compared to it, you just wanted it to end, to die. It was also a curse often used to get people to confess, or to simply torture for the sake of torturing. The Cruciatus Curse was one of the Unforgivable Curses, just one incantation would be enough to land you in a cell in Azkaban for the rest of your life.

"Where did she go?" he demanded urgently.

Uncle Vernon didn't seem to be in a state of wanting to speak and further, and neither did Aunt Petunia. Harry gave up trying to ask him and ran out of the room and down the stairs, jumping the last five.

"What happened, Harry," said Mad-Eye worriedly, having now erased all the memories of the people up and down the street.

"It was Bellatrix Lestrange."

_I really hope you enjoyed that, and please send me a review!_


	4. Flight and Fright

_Hey peeps, I hope you like the new chapter. And just to say, I own none of these characters, in case you didn't know._

__

Flight and Fright

They wasted no more time, and after Harry had found Dudley squashed into a cupboard trembling like a pink blancmange jelly, Mad-Eye Moody had already contacted several members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Dumbledore's been told," Moody told Harry, "And so have Lupin and Tonks. I didn't get much said in the few minutes, but just pack your things, Harry, and be ready to leave whenever."

Harry nodded and walked over to his bed, where he had already piled most of his belongings and Hedwig. He looked sadly at his Firebolt, he hadn't ridden it in ages, but just seeing it brought back memories of Sirius. He picked it up slightly, and ran his fingers over the carved golden lettering of "Firebolt" absently.

His aunt, uncle and cousin were downstairs in the kitchen, disgusted at having another wizard in their house (and one with an ever spinning magical eye revolving around), but half petrified because of the experience they had just had. Despite the fact that it was only three in the morning, Uncle Vernon was already drinking his first cup of black coffee, but Aunt Petunia hands had been shaking so much that half the instant coffee powder was left on the kitchen bench.

Harry thought of Ron and Hermione, and the letters they had sent him. The letters, as they had been since the last summer, were almost devoid of information, but it was nice to know that they still remembered him. He had even received a letter from Lupin, who he knew was probably grieving as much as he himself was, and even though it was a very short letter, as though Lupin couldn't bear to talk about Sirius, Harry appreciated it very much.

"Tonks is here," growled Mad-Eye, startling Harry out from his thoughts, "Are you ready yet?"

"Yeah," muttered Harry, as a thought struck him, "What are you going to say to my aunt and uncle? And didn't Dumbledore say I had to stay here for the rest of the summer. Not that I want to," he added hurriedly.

Moody raised his eyebrows and his magical eye popped out of its socket. "Damn it," he said, "I'll take care of your aunt and uncle, but hurry up, Tonks is on duty again this morning."

Harry nodded and picked up his belongings and left the room, acknowledging Moody's comments, but also noting that nothing had been mentioned about Dumbledore. He walked down the stairs quickly and turned into the hallway, where Tonks, with sleek long black hair this morning, was waiting.

"Wotcha, Harry," she said, in her normal lively greeting, "Ready to take a Portkey off to headquarters?"

Harry put his luggage down onto Aunt Petunia's shiny waxed floor. "You bet," he said.

Tonks dug her hand into the pocket of her jeans, and after pulling several Chocolate Frog wrappers from them, produced a stripy sock with a hole in it. She held it out to Harry.

"Just hold the end of it," she told him, "It doesn't smell or anything, but it was the first Portkey I could get hold of this morning."

Harry pinched the edge of the sock and held his luggage close to him. He still thought it was quite amazing that a sock could carry him, his luggage, Hedwig and Tonks. But then again, a lot of things had seemed amazing when he first came to Hogwarts. Tonks was looking at her watch, which quite surprisingly looked like a digital watch, until Harry saw that it had been made by Terence Tempo's Timer Company. (_I will think of a better name, It's just that all the names in HP have a Latin base, and I was extremely uninspired)._

"Five, four, three, two, one..."

Harry remembered the jerking feeling just before he felt it. He saw a whirl of colours as they flew over the organized Muggle world, then his feet slammed into the ground and he stumbled, his luggage hitting him hard in the knee. He looked around for 12 Grimmauld Place.

It wasn't there.

The Portkey had been intercepted.

_Please send me a review!_


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